on the eve of something new
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: One late November night, Marius Black runs into a nice lady who takes him home. For Amber.


Written for Hogwarts' Media Study Assignment: The Nightmare Before Christmas - Write about someone experiencing Christmas celebrations for the first time, the Library Lovers Event: The Magicians - Lev Grossman: (plot point) finding a place to belong, (quote) "It's time to live with what we have and mourn what we lost", (word) magic, the Crafty Cocktail Corner: Banana - (restriction) no Gryffindors, the Writing Club - Disney Challenge: Ariel - Write about being able to have both family and love, Showtime: Nowadays (Roxie) - (dialogue) "Isn't it great?", Lyric Alley: But we'll take what comes, take what comes, Restriction of the Month: Write a story that does not contain any characters that attended Hogwarts whilst Harry was there (including Professors), (emotion) doubt, Sophie's Shelf: fragrance, edge, inhale, swell, delirious, untamed.

Also for Amber - I took your headcanons and wrote this. I had fun, and I hate you for inspiring me so much. Happy (belated) birthday love!

 _Word count:_ 5028

* * *

 _ **on the eve of something new**_

The streets were cold. Marius shivered and drew his coat tighter around himself. It didn't really help — it had rained earlier and his clothes were still wet from it because he hadn't been able to find shelter quickly enough.

He kept walking in an effort to warm up — an old man at a shelter had taught him that emere weeks ago, but it had helped him a lot already — but his hands wouldn't stop shivering and his teeth wouldn't stop shattering.

Treacherously, his mind strayed back to the days when he would only have had to mention being cold to be surrounded by delicious warmth, a fresh cup of tea tucked in his hands. He shook his head and tried to bury those memories back in the corner of his mind, but they lingered anyway, causing his eyes to prickle with tears.

He rubbed his eyes angrily and focused back on his surroundings, trying to figure out if there was somewhere safe enough for him to rest a little.

It was then that he recognized where he was — and just as he did, a door opened right in front of him, showering him in bright golden light.

As he blinked away the spots in his vision, the figure of a familiar woman, hauling heavy garbage bags out of the door, came into view.

The woman was small and stocky, with dark skin and soft features, and her face broke into a wide smile as soon as she spotted Marius, though it quickly morphed into concern. She dropped her bags and hurried over to him, stopping with her hands hovering inches above his shoulders, like she wanted to draw him into a hug but wasn't sure how that'd be received.

"Marius?" she asked, voice full of a worry that made Marius feel grateful and ashamed at the same time. "What are you doing here this late? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Marius replied, forcing a small smile on his trembling lips. "I was just… walking." He stopped there, not sure what to say next — he had never told Mrs. Murray that he was homeless and that his parents had kicked him out (much less about the no magic thing), but she and her husband were always willing to give him free food when he showed up, and part of Marius suspected they _knew_ , even without him saying anything.

Mrs. Murray eyed him for a moment before she sighed. "Why don't you come inside for a moment? You look hungry — we can fix you up something quickly, if you want?"

Marius hesitated, but… He hadn't eaten since this morning, and even then, it hadn't been much. He _was_ hungry, as his stomach demonstrated by suddenly growling loudly.

Mrs. Murray chuckled a little as she gestured for him to get in, but her eyes were sad.

And that was what decided him — this woman had only ever been nice to him, and here, he was making her sad. It didn't seem… fair, somehow. He nodded, and was rewarded with a brighter smile as he moved toward the lit opening.

"Go in," Mrs. Murray told him, "I'll be right behind you — I just have to get rid of these bags." She gestured at the garbage bags on the ground. "Thomas should still be in the kitchen, tell him I sent you."

Marius almost hesitated — he was far more familiar with Mrs. Murray than he was with her husband, whom he had never actually met, but both his and others' experiences with the couple tended to firmly be on the 'can be trusted' side of things — and so another kind smile from Mrs. Murray helped him decide.

He walked in. The other side of the door was a simple corridor, and the light didn't seem quite as bright now that he was inside, but the warmth enveloped him quickly and his shoulders unwound almost without him realizing it.

Marius knew the restaurant proper had probably closed some time ago — he wasn't quite sure of the time, but he hadn't seen anyone outside in the streets in a while — and yet it still smelled like food. It was hard to pinpoint what it was, but the smell had him salivating anyway, pictures of roast beef and perfect baked potatoes dancing in his mind.

He walked slowly, hoping Mrs. Murray would catch up with him, but the corridor was small, and he reached the only other open door before she could. The door was only slightly ajar, and when Marius pushed it shyly, it creaked a little.

"Josephine?" A male voice called out, sounding a little rough.

Marius saw the man the instant the room opened. He wasn't tall, but he wasn't small either. He was _taller_ than his wife, that was for sure, but they seemed to share the same stocky, jovial build.

He was also staring at Marius in surprise. "You're not Josephine," he said, eyes narrowing with something that looked like suspicion.

Marius almost bolted, heart racing in his chest when he heard a chuckling sound from behind him. "Thomas, this is Marius," Mrs. Murray's voice said. There was something pointed in the way she said his name, and Marius forced himself not to flinch at it, even though it seemed to mean something good to Mr. Murray, because the man suddenly smiled and relaxed.

"Marius, this is my husband, Thomas," she continued, before shuffling past Marius and into the room. Marius followed her, staying half a step behind her.

"Hi," Marius mumbled, inwardly cursing himself at how… plebeian he sounded. His mother would have had his hide for that.

But Mr. Murray didn't seem to care, and neither did his wife. They both just kept smiling at him that to his horror, his eyes started to prickle again and his throat started to burn. He swallowed heavily and let his eyes roam over the clean counters, cataloging everything he saw, as the two adults whispered to one another.

They were talking to softly for him to understand everything, but whatever had happened, it was clear that Mrs. Murray had gotten her way because her husband rolled his eyes at him, sighed loudly and left, though not before pressing a lingering kiss on her cheek.

Mrs. Murray turned back to him as her husband left. She must have read something on his face, because she added, "Thomas just went home to grab some dry clothes for you."

"Why?" Marius blurted out.

Mrs. Murray smiled at him sadly. "Because it's the right thing to do. Because we want to. Because you can't stay in these wet clothes forever." She shrugged. "Pick one. Now, do you have any requests?" she asked him.

He simply stared at her, voice stuck in his throat.

"For food?" she added.

Maius shook his head. "Anything's fine," he told her, throat still so tight it almost hurt. "Really."

Mrs. Murray hummed a little, fingers drumming against her leg as she thought. Finally, she asked if he was okay with spaghetti bolognese, and when Marius merely nodded, she ventured to another room and came back with fresh tomatoes, onions and a bunch of herbs he didn't recognize.

He watched her silently as she started dicing everything, and soon enough, water was boiling in one pot while sauce was simmering in a pan. It smelled so good Marius thought he might die from how much he wanted to taste it, and Mrs. Murray was humming softly a song Marius had never heard before as she stirred everything.

She occasionally made a comment or two, but for the most part, she seemed content for there to be not actual talking. Gradually, Marius found himself truly relaxing on the high stool she had fetched for him some time ago.

Mrs. Murray was just draining the water when her husband walked back in with a plastic bag holding the promised clothes. Marius almost couldn't believe this was truly happening — he discreetly pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

When reality stayed the same, he let Mrs. Murray escort him toward the employee's bathroom where he could change. He did so quickly.

The clothes Mr. Murray were too big for him — they were probably his, he realized. The shirt fell to his mid-thigh, and he had to roll the legs of the trousers three times so he wouldn't step on them as he walked, but everything was deliciously dry and soft.

Marius had almost forgotten how soft clean clothes could feel.

He shuffled out of the bathroom with his damp clothes under one arm, and Mrs. Murray took them from him with a gentle smile.

She ushered him back to his seat and pushed a still fuming plate of pasta showered in a vivid red sauce. It smelled delicious, and Marius was dying to taste it, but he still waited for Mrs. Murray to tell him he could eat it before doing so.

He forced himself to eat slowly, savoring each bite. Not only didn't he know when he'd next get a meal this good, but he had also learned over the last couple of months on the streets that eating too quickly could make him sick, especially if he hadn't eaten much before.

"There's more if you want," Mrs. Murray told him as he finished his plate, and Marius hesitantly nodded.

"Thank you," he said as she handed his empty plate to her husband for a second serving.

"Of course," she replied. She kept watching him as he ate, and eventually, Marius raised his head, no longer as focused on his food now that he wasn't as hungry anymore.

"What is it?"

Mrs. Murray licked her lips and shared a look with her husband. "We were wondering… Do you have a place to sleep tonight?" She frowned in concern. "Do you maybe… want us to call your parents? Or anyone else?"

Marius was laughing before he even realized it, the sound wry and painful even to his own ears. Mrs. Murray flinched and drew closer to her husband, but she didn't stop looking at him with those gentle eyes of hers.

"I'll figure something out," he replied, fists clenching beside his plate. He looked down. "And my parents…" The words died on his tongue and he shivered, suddenly feeling cold despite the room being so warm. Without magic, there was no way anyone would ever be able to contact his parents. Not that anything good could come of that either.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two adults exchange another meaningful look.

"Marius," Mr. Murray started, "you have to understand that we can't just let you live on the streets like this. It's no place for a child. Are you sure there's no one we can call for you?"

Marius swallowed heavily. He shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm —" _perplexed_ "— grateful for your help, and for this meal, but I'm fine. I don't —"

Mrs. Murray cut him off. "At least stay over for the night. You can sleep on our sofa, it's very comfortable, and we can make pancakes in the morning." She offered him another gentle smile. " At least stay until your clothes dry out."

Marius eyed his still half-full plate and then he drifted back to the hopeful look in Mrs. Murray's eyes. "Just for the night?" he asked warily.

"Just for the night," she agreed.

Marius thought about it — it probably wasn't very wise to go with them, but he was tired, and cold, and dirty. He hadn't slept on something bedlike in what felt like forever, and right now that sofa sounded divine.

He could trust the Murrays. Everyone said so — his instincts said so.

And it would be just for a night.

Would it be so bad to stay just one night?

Mrs. Murray was looking at him with such a hopeful look that Marius found he couldn't say no to her anyway. "Alright," he said, nodding. "But just for the night, alright?"

"Alright," Mrs. Murray replied. Her grin widened and Marius found himself smiling back.

He finished his meal and followed them to their car.

As promised, the sofa they put him on was very comfortable. The blanket Mrs. Murray gave him was soft and smelled like flowers, and Marius fell asleep the instant his head the pillow.

The next morning, the Murrays convinced him to stay for lunch, and then for dinner — and before he knew it, they had carved out a piece of their home for him, and he had moved into a newly rearranged guest bedroom.

And then it was December, and he left his room to hear cursing coming from the living-room.

Marius froze in the hallway, heart racing, but the cursing didn't sound angry. It sounded more like… exasperation, like that time Mr. Murray — Thomas — had been trying to assemble the new bed they had gotten for him.

He still tiptoed up to the room, and made sure the door didn't creak as he pushed it open slowly.

And then he stared, as he saw Thomas and Josephine struggling with a tall pine tree, trying to get it upright in front of the sofa.

The foresty fragrance tickled his nose even from that far, but Marius only stared at the tree in confusion.

"What's going on?" he blurted out inelegantly.

Josephine jumped, causing Thomas to overbalance and the tree to almost fall, slipping through his hands. He cursed again, loudly, and then he winced and apologized loudly as Josephine slapped his arm and glared at him for his language.

Despite himself, Marius found himself smiling at the familiar scene.

"We're setting up the Christmas tree! Isn't it great?" Josephine replied, grinning from ear to ear. "You can come join us after breakfast if you want — we'll need help decorating the house anyway!"

Marius frowned in confusion. "Christmas?" He knew Yule, of course, and he kind of knew Muggles had their own ways to celebrate that, but the Blacks had never been big on celebrating anything, Yule or otherwise.

And he didn't see where the tree came in.

The Murrays were looking at him with a mix of pity and horror, and Marius could feel himself flinch back. The last time he had seen a look like this…

 _His mother, turning her face away._

 _His father, wishing him dead. Banishing him from his home._

No, it was better not to think about that time.

"Have you ever celebrated Christmas, Marius?" Josephine asked him. The pity and horror were hidden behind curiosity, and Marius found it a little easier to breathe. He inhaled deeply and let the present chase away the clinging ghosts of his past.

"Not really, no," he said. "My —" the word _family_ stuck to his throat, "— we weren't really into celebrations."

Luckily, they didn't press him for more details. "Well," Thomas said instead, sharing an excited look with his wife, "then we'll just have to make this even more special, won't we?"

They left the tree half-standing and went with him to the kitchen, and as he ate breakfast, they explained to him a bit more about what Christmas was, what it represented for them.

They quickly explained that it was a time for family, for being _together_.

"And presents," Thomas added with a playful wink that had his wife roll her eyes at him.

"And presents," she agreed nonetheless, lips quirked up into a smile. "It's religious, too — at least it is for a lot of people — but neither Thomas nor I practice much. Mostly we have a nice meal and exchange small gifts."

"Gifts?" Marius asked.

Josephine seemed to read his mind, because she chuckled. "Don't worry, we don't expect you to get us anything. It's more for us to give to you."

Marius swallowed heavily, taking a long gulp of orange juice to hide his discomfort. He hoped his blush wasn't too prominent, but he had inherited his parents' pale skin, and blushing tended to show much too easily on him.

"You've given me more than enough already," he mumbled into his drink. He could feel his heart swell in his chest and he half-hoped they hadn't heard him, but Josephine cooed and drew him into a tight hug over the tiny breakfast table. Marius only barely managed to save his glass from spilling its contents all over his toast, but he was glad that the hug at least gave him an opportunity to hide his face.

She let him go and he finished his breakfast. Still in his pajamas, he joined them around the tree — and found himself laughing as it took the two adults another half hour to manage to have it stand upright with no risk of falling down.

Josephine handed him a large cardboard box filled with ornaments, and under her careful directions, he and Thomas started to hang them on the tree.

It quickly turned into some sort of competition on who could follow Josephine's instructions better, and by the time they finished the tree and moved onto the room itself, Marius was laughing.

He couldn't remember the last time he had done that.

He didn't think he had ever laughed so freely before, or felt so deliriously happy.

That afternoon, Josephine sat him down and taught him to make paper garlands. His firsts looked terrible — misshapen things that somehow held together in a way that almost made him question him not having magic — but Josephine and Thomas praised them anyway and insisted they hang them up.

It felt oddly pleasant, being praised for such a shoddily made thing. Had he done anything like this _before_ , Marius was sure he'd have sooner been cursed than praised.

He knew which option he preferred, and he spared a thought for his siblings, who would probably never know better than what they had.

But his siblings had magic — they'd also never have it as bad as he had. Never have to worry about being cast out to die for not being what their parents wanted. For being useless.

Only the Murrays didn't seem to find him useless. They liked him, and they were helping him — teaching him things, drawing smiles out of him when he hadn't thought he could feel happy without magic in his life.

They were helping him, and he was so very grateful. He wanted to pay them back, somehow. _A Black doesn't suffer debts_. It was one of his — previous — family mottos that Marius thought he could get behind.

Because he liked the Murrays — liked Josephine's singing, even if it was almost always out of tune, liked the way Thomas ruffled his hair in the mornings, even if it was infuriating.

He liked them, and he wanted them to like him. And this _Christmas_ thing seemed like the perfect time for that.

In the end, the couple of weeks until _Christmas_ passed quickly.

Marius spent most of his days at the restaurant — the regulars _liked_ him, and the staff found him _adorable_ , which Marius didn't think would ever feel not weird — doing worksheets Josephine had somehow dug up for him.

He had heard Thomas and Josephine talk about school before, but he hadn't missed the somewhat horrified looks they had shared when he had confessed to never going to school before. He knew how to read and write, of course — though the odd pens they had given him kept tripping him up when he was used to quills — and he knew some math, but subjects like History had him stare blankly at the questions like they were Parseltongue.

He knew they were planning to enroll him in school at some point, but him not technically existing in the Muggle world would probably make that difficult.

Marius tried not to think about it — not only had Josephine and Thomas repeatedly told him not to worry, but thinking about those things always led to him remembering how, exactly, he had ended up so stranded in this strange world. he had been so lucky to find the Murrays, and he knew it. The last thing he wanted was to cause them trouble, so if they said they were handling it… well, Marius trusted them to handle it. Somehow.

But still, he wanted to give them _something_ to show how grateful he was for them taking him in when they didn't have to.

He brainstormed for a while, but after discarding what felt like, somehow, at the same time a lot of ideas and no ideas at all, he ventured into the kitchen one afternoon during a lull in the service, and asked Steve, one of the cooks there, to teach him how to make pancakes.

The Murrays always kept their fridge stocked with the right ingredients for those — at least he was pretty sure — and it didn't sound too complicated to make.

Plus, he knew Josephine _and_ Thomas liked them.

Steve was only too happy to help him out — though Marius had to suffer through cooing and hair ruffling — and by the time Christmas actually rolled around, he could make pancakes that were, at worst, just slightly burned around the edges. Steve laughed at that and sent him on his way, asking him not to burn down his parents' kitchen.

Marius' heart tripped in his chest, but it forced him to realize that yes, somehow he had come to think of Josephine and Thomas as… parents, of a sort. The thought felt weird and made him want to panic — so Marius repressed it, the way he did everything that made his heart race and caused his hands to start shaking.

Because of the restaurant, Josephine and Thomas had told him they wouldn't do a Christmas _dinner_ like most people did, but rather a Christmas _lunch_. On Christmas day.

Not that Marius really cared one way or the other, having never experienced either.

He just made sure to wake up early on Christmas day. Being quiet in the kitchen was harder than he'd expected — this early, everything seemed to sound noisier somehow — but Marius managed to complete Steve's pancake recipe easily enough.

Soon enough, Marius was piling up his pancakes — golden brown and _almost_ not burnt at all — on a clean dish. He sneaked one from the pile because they smelled too good not to, and he was pleased to see that while not as good as Josephine's, they were definitely good enough to eat.

He just hoped Josephine and Thomas liked them.

He was trying to figure out if he should make tea or just go with orange juice when Thomas stumbled into the kitchen.

"Aah… Surprise?" Marius went, offering him a sheepish smile.

Thomas eyed the kitchen — and the pancakes — with wide eyes. "You… did all this?"

Marius nodded, throat suddenly feeling tight. "I — It's for Christmas. As a gift — for you and Josephine. For helping me — for taking me in."

Thomas' face softened. "You didn't have to, you know. Having you here is enough of a gift for us."

Marius swallowed, blinking away the burning in his eyes. "I wanted to," he replied.

Thomas nodded and patted him on the shoulder once. "So, should I go wake Josephine and bring her here? Or do you want me to go back to bed and pretend it's a surprise so you can bring this," he gestured at the food, "to us?"

Marius startled. He hadn't even considered that last possibility. He was tempted, but he had planned this for all of them to share. And he'd feel weird going up to their bedroom. He licked his lips nervously. "Could you please wake her up?"

Thomas smiled. "Of course. Give me… Ten minutes? We'll be right there."

Ten minutes sounded perfect, and Marius said so.

Thomas left, and as promised, he came back around ten minutes later with Josephine in tow, the short woman yawning and rubbing her eyes sleepily. Her hair was wild and untamed, even though she kept trying to get it into some semblance of order.

She was complaining about Thomas waking her up so early — a habit he had gotten into during his time in the military and never lost after that, to his wife's despair — but her complaints stopped as soon as she saw the table Marius had set for them.

She hurried over and pulled him into a tight hug. "You did all this?" she asked, brown eyes glittering with exuberant joy.

Marius nodded, and after a quick glance toward Thomas, he said, "Merry Christmas?"

It came off as more of a question than he'd meant, but Josephine didn't seem to care as she drew him into another hug.

"It looks delicious, Marius. Thank you," she told him as they sat down.

They took their time eating, but even so, it quickly became apparent that Marius had made way too many pancakes. He blushed in embarrassment as the pile didn't seem to go down, no matter how many they ate, but Josephine and Thomas only chuckled.

"They'll keep for a while in the fridge, don't worry," Josephine told him.

It didn't help with the embarrassment, but it helped him not feel like he'd wasted some of their food.

They moved to the living room after that, and it was then that Marius noticed the colorful parcels under the tree. They hadn't been there yesterday, and Marius suddenly realized that these must be the 'gifts' Josephine and Thomas had told him were exchanged on Christmas.

He sat down on the sofa, starting to feel excited almost despite himself, and watched.

Josephine bent down under the tree and seemed to hesitate for a moment. In the end, she stood up, empty-handed, and plucked a heavy-looking brown envelope from the tree itself. It had been camouflaged by the colourful decorations there, and seemed far less appealing to the eye than the shimmering parcels on the ground, which probably explained why Marius hadn't noticed it.

Josephine handed the envelope to Marius and sat on the coffee table a little to the right of him.

Somehow, this felt important. The envelope felt weighted in his hands, and Marius found he was almost dreading to open it.

Josephine seemed to feel it, because she rested a hand on his, gently. "You don't have to choose now," she said, her voice soft. "We just wanted you to have the option — you staying here, with us, is not conditional on whether or not you agree to see."

Curious, Marius opened the envelope. There were many papers in it — no wonder it had been so heavy. Some of them he remembered, like the medical ones from the times when the Murrays had brought him to the doctor for a bunch of stuff he'd rather not remember, but others he didn't, even though he knew what they were.

Identification papers.

And then, there were the other papers. The ones that had his heart stick to his throat and his eyes water until he couldn't see anything and had to wipe his eyes quickly.

"You… You want to _adopt_ me?" he asked, voice trembling. He wasn't sure how he felt — there was just so much in his chest, around his heart. It felt like something was trying to burst out of him. "You _want_ me?"

Josephine nodded. When she spoke, her voice was trembling too. "Of course we want to, sweetie," she said. Marius didn't have to look to know she was smiling, but he turned to check anyway.

Thomas was smiling too, a silent presence at Marius' other side. He spoke before Marius could turn toward him. "We want you to be our son officially. But you have to know that even if you say _no_ , or _not yet_ , for any reason, it's not going to change how much we care about you."

"You can keep your name, too," Josephine hastened to add. "I know you may not want to use ours, and that's fine too, if you want to keep your last name."

Marius started to clench his hands but stopped when he felt the papers start to crinkle. He couldn't look at Josephine or Thomas — if he did, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest — but staring at the papers, the word _adoption_ so clear in bold black letters, didn't really help either.

And yet he couldn't stop staring.

He wanted this, he realized. He wanted this — wanted them to call him their son, and to keep him, and to want him.

"I want to keep my name," he said. He wasn't even sure why, except that he knew the name _Black_ was the only thing he had left from the first eleven years of his life. The only thing he still had when his 'parents' (if they could even be called that) had left him to die — they had tried to take it from him too, but he refused to let them.

He would take their name and make it something. Something good.

"And yes," he added, voice and hands trembling, "I want this. I want to be your son."

Josephine was crying as she pulled him into a hug, soon to be joined by Thomas, and Marius let himself be hugged tightly. And he cried — he cried for the family who hadn't wanted him, and he cried for the one who did.

It hurt a little, even now, to let go of the past. He had accepted in his mind that they wouldn't be coming back for him, but somehow this — letting Josephine and Thomas adopt him — felt more final, and that hurt.

But it also felt good, and freeing.

It took him some time to parse out the litany of words Josephine was saying against his hair, but he did recognize the _thank you_ s after a while.

 _Thank you_.

Yeah, that felt about right.


End file.
